Where it Starts it Ends and Begins Again
by Noodlee
Summary: Kurt Hummel is sent to a rehabilitation center/boarding school called Dalton Academy. Here he meets his charming, dapper, and rebellious roommate, Blaine Anderson, who might have more to him than meets the eye.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or its characters. This is for fun, not profit.**

Where it Starts it Ends (and Begins Again)_  
__Chapter One_

Kurt's death-grip on the strap of his bag tightened as his dad killed the engine in the parking lot of Dalton Academy and looked back at him.

"Ready?"

"No."

Carole looked back at him now, a sympathetic smile playing on her face.

"It won't be so horrible, Kurt," she said. "Your dad and I already spoke to Katherine — she's supposed to be your therapist while you're here. She sounds very nice."

Kurt sunk back into his seat and folded his arms over his chest.

"Oh, good," he said facetiously, "then I guess I have nothing to worry about."

He saw his dad and Carole exchange a look, and this only served to infuriate him further. He opened the door of the car and stepped out, taking care to slam it behind him. Burt and Carole ignored this, instead opening the trunk and taking a suitcase each. Kurt looked at the campus before him: it was, admittedly, bigger and much classier than he'd imagined. There was the main building right up front, in front of which stood a large marble statue proclaiming it "Dalton Academy." Behind it were three other buildings, each very large and very intimidating. Kurt imagined one of them must be the school, and possibly the other two were the dormitories. In any case, his parents were already heading toward the main building, so with a heavy sigh and a last glance at the car he followed.

Less than an hour later Kurt found himself sitting in an office inside of one of the dorm buildings with a woman named Rebecca. She'd asked him at least ten thousand irrelevant questions, including whether he had any piercings or tattoos, and then handed him a large binder and told him to read through the Dalton Handbook while she went to get his uniform.

The handbook unnerved him, to say the least. It went over the schedule for weekdays and weekends, explained about "levels" and how they affected off-campus privileges and home visits, and warned him about punishments.

When Rebecca returned around ten minutes later she was carrying several pairs of khaki-colored slacks, polo shirts, blazers, and ties. Kurt eyed them with a raised eyebrow.

"I think these should be your size," Rebecca said, handing them to Kurt. "You can try them on when you get to your dorm. You'll wear that uniform during weekdays, and on weekends you are permitted to wear a pair of jeans and any Dalton shirt." She laughed. "Although you should have read that in the handbook. Did you finish?"

"Yes," he said, handing it back.

"Any questions?"

"Uh, yes. " He rubbed his hands on his thighs nervously. "I didn't exactly understand what levels are."

"Simple enough," she said with a smile. "I'll explain on the way to your dorm, how about that?"

Kurt shrugged and stood, following her out of the office and into one of the many corridors of his new dormitory building.

"Everyone starts out as a level one," she explained, "unless they're over eighteen and come here willingly, in which case they start as a one-plus. The levels progress in the same way: that is, two-minus, two, two-plus, three-minus, etc., and goes up to a four. When you reach level four you gain independent off-campus privileges, and you are expected to find a job. Your graduation will depend upon your success as a four. Most boys graduate within a few months of reaching that level."

"A few _months_?" Kurt spluttered, stopping in his tracks. Rebecca looked back at him and smirked. Her amusement infuriated him.

"Oh, yes. It generally takes about a year to graduate, and that's without level-drops. At the beginning of every month you will have to fill out a petition for a level raise. The therapists all get together and discuss each student and decide whether they drop, stay, or raise."

Rebecca led Kurt past a large window and he briefly contemplated jumping out. This was so _utterly_ unfair. He didn't belong here! Why couldn't his parents have just sent him to a therapist? It would have been less expensive than Dalton, that was for certain! They could have gone on their honeymoon, and he wouldn't be stuck here for God knew how long!

"It'll become clearer as you live here," Rebecca said, snapping him out of his miserable thoughts. "Anyway, here we are!" They'd come to the end of a long hallway and stopped at a door on the left hand side. Big brass symbols in the middle of the door dubbed the room "33C."

Kurt was very aware of the lack of locks on the door as Rebecca pushed it open and ushered him inside.

The first thing Kurt noticed was the inhabited side of the room: it screamed "a teenage boy lives here!" There were bags of chips on the bed and the desk, books scattered about the floor, and arbitrary articles of clothing lying here and there. However, to Kurt's immense surprise, it didn't smell bad. Indeed, it smelled rather . . . enticing. Like some sort of cologne.

"Oh _God_," Rebecca grumbled, and Kurt watched her stalk over to the cluttered desk and snatch something off the top. When she turned he saw that it was a pack of cigarettes. His eyebrows raised beneath his hairline.

"Are those . . . ?"

"He'll be hearing about it," she said gravely. "His name is Blaine Anderson. Everyone's at school right now, you'll meet them later on. Every Tuesday we have a House meeting in the common room, so you came on an excellent day." She checked her watch. "It's just after one now. Your therapist, Katherine, will be up here shortly to bring you your stuff. They have to go through it first —"

"What?"

She chuckled. "Not to worry. It's just to make sure you don't have any weapons, potentially harmful objects, drugs, or . . ." She held up the cigarettes. "Anything like this. I'm sure you'll be fine, Kurt." She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him the first genuine smile he'd seen on her face all day. "I'll be in my office. You're always welcome to knock on my door, alright? Oh, and remember to change into your uniform. You'll have to be wearing it when you go to the House meeting later."

He nodded. She squeezed his shoulder, gave him another comforting grin, and then left. He turned to his side of the room, which looked as though it had been cleaned recently. He walked over to the bed and ran his fingers over the comforter, sneering when he felt the texture. He'd have to ask his parents to send one from home if he planned on getting _any_ sleep here.

He looked at the door, wondering when Katherine would arrive, and then glanced at the uniform. It was with a very heavy sigh that he removed his clothing — the last symbol of anything relatively normal — and changed into the clothes Rebecca had given him.

It wasn't _too_ horrible, he decided as he glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror. Perhaps the pants could have been tighter, but there was nothing he could do about that.

A knock on the door tore his eyes away from his reflection. When he went back into the room he saw an older woman peeking her head in. She was tall and skinny and had her gray hair pulled back into a tight bun. Possibly the most unnerving thing about her appearance, however, was the cross hanging from her neck.

_Hope she's not a homophobe_, he thought as she made her way across the room to him, his suitcase in her hand, _or I'm bound to be a level one for quite some time._

It took him two hours to get set up. While he didn't have all his clothes, he still took his time putting all the uniforms away, and then there were his amenities to deal with. He'd set everything up on his side of the bathroom counter before worrying that his roommate would mess with them, and therefore deciding to put them on his desk. However, once he'd unpacked all his books, he discovered he needed the space, and put all his conditioners and moisturizers back in the bathroom.

When three o 'clock rolled around Rebecca came back to get him.

"Wonderful," she said, patting down the lapels of his blazer and adjusting his tie. "I knew it would fit. Did Katherine bring your stuff?"

Kurt nodded and she peeked into the room, smiling when she saw everything set up.

"Perfect. So, are you ready to meet the other boys in your House?"

Kurt shrugged. "Guess so."

Rebecca laughed and put an arm around his shoulder.

"They're nice boys, don't worry."

He wanted to remind her that if they were such nice boys they wouldn't be in this ridiculous place, but chose to keep his mouth shut. She led him to a large room on the second floor that housed a giant, flat screen TV and a massive beige couch which formed a half square in the middle of the room. At least thirty boys, all in their Dalton uniforms, were sprawled out on the couch, some of them laughing, some of them talking quietly, and a few keeping to themselves. Not many of them, Kurt noted, were very attractive.

"Boys!" Rebecca shouted, and they all turned to her. "If you'll all calm down for a moment, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Kurt felt his cheeks turning what was sure to be a deep shade of red as every eye fell on him.

"This is Kurt. He's just arrived this morning." There was a smattering of "hi"s and "hello"s and his face reddened further. Rebecca smiled at him. "If you'd like to take a seat on the couch, Kurt, we can start the meeting."

He nodded and went to sit at the very edge, feeling extremely uncomfortable. Throughout the meeting (during which they discussed events from the week, so Kurt did not take part) he felt the eyes of all the boys continuously coming back to him. He only looked up a few times.

It lasted a good half hour. When Rebecca had declared it over, some of the boys left to go back to their dorms while other stayed in the common room.

"Blaine!" Rebecca called, and a boy Kurt hadn't noticed (probably due to his refusal to look at anyone) turned around. If everyone else in this place was mildly unattractive, this boy was above and beyond average. His hair was short, but it was thick and dark and curly and Kurt wanted to run his hands through it. His face was incredibly handsome, but his _eyes_ . . . It felt to Kurt as though his throat had closed up and his tongue had swelled to twice its normal size.

"Yes, ma'am?" Blaine said with a smirk. Kurt was astounded to see Rebecca's cheeks flush.

"Kurt is your new roommate. Would you care to give him a tour of the building?"

Blaine's lovely eyes landed on him and Kurt had to fight the automatic urge to look away.

"Love to," Blaine said, his eyes never leaving Kurt.

"Wonderful." She turned to Kurt. "Enjoy your night! I won't see you at dinner, but I'll check up on you tomorrow morning."

Rebecca left the room and Blaine finally looked away from Kurt as he headed to the door. However, he looked back again when he opened the door and gestured for Kurt to go through ahead of him. Kurt wondered briefly how many times he could blush today.

"So, why'd you get shipped here?" Blaine asked as they started down the corridor. He flashed Kurt a cheeky smile that gave him butterflies.

"Um . . . I'm sorry, I don't really feel like talking about that," he said quietly, looking away from the unnervingly handsome boy beside him and his flirtatious smile.

"Is it really bad or embarrassingly boring?"

Kurt turned to look at him. "Excuse me?"

Blaine chuckled. Put a hand on his shoulder. "Nothing. Don't worry about it." With the hand not resting on Kurt's shoulder he gestured to a door, next to which a plaque read "Study Room." "This, in case you can't tell for yourself, is the study."

Kurt smiled in spite of himself. Blaine saw this and his eyes sparkled. And while they were certainly gorgeous eyes, Kurt, for the first time, noticed something strange. Within that teasing sparkle was something almost maniacal. As though under this charming exterior was something dangerous.

And Kurt hated the fact that this made Blaine all the more attractive.

"And that's about it," he laughed. "I'm not quite sure why you'd need a tour. School's in the other building. And the cafeteria. You've seen the common room. We could always go back to _our_ room." The way Blaine's eyes roved over Kurt's body as he said this last caused him to blush. Again.

"I . . . Um, yeah, sure." He swallowed thickly and looked down the corridor. "I don't think I could find it again yet, actually."

Kurt stopped breathing for a second when Blaine reached out and grabbed his hand, leading him to the elevators. Inside the elevator he never released Kurt's hand, and he continued holding it all the way until they reached their dorm. At this point he let go, only to hold the door open and usher Kurt inside.

Kurt smiled at him — while avoiding eye contact — and went to sit down on his bed. He watched Blaine walk over to his desk, scrunch his eyebrows, and then roll his eyes.

"Rebecca took them," Kurt said. Blaine turned to look at him, appearing confused. "Your cigarettes," he clarified, pointing at Blaine's desk. "She saw them when she brought me here before."

Blaine huffed, then proceeded to open a drawer and take out another pack. Kurt's eyebrows rose.

"You know," Blaine muttered as he tore off the plastic, "that's seven bucks down the drain."

"Maybe you shouldn't buy cigarettes," Kurt suggested. Blaine smirked up at him.

"Yeah. And maybe you shouldn't buy designer clothes."

Kurt had been about to roll his eyes when he remembered Blaine had never seen his regular wardrobe.

"How do you know I wear designer clothes?"

Blaine shrugged as he rummaged in his drawer for something else. "I could tell."

Kurt wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or not.

Blaine found what he'd been looking for — a red lighter, apparently — and smiled much too widely at Kurt.

"Take it as a compliment, babe." And with a wink and another cheesy smirk he walked out of the room, leaving Kurt sitting on his bed with his mouth hanging wide open and his stomach fluttering.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or its characters. This is for fun, not profit.**

Where it Starts it Ends (and Begins Again)  
_Chapter Two_

At seven fifteen in the morning, as Kurt was brushing his teeth after his shower, Blaine walked into the bathroom looking adorably disheveled. His eyes were squinted and his hair stuck up at odd angles. Kurt forced himself not to smile and looked back at the mirror.

"Did you already shower?" Blaine croaked.

"Yes," he said, after having rinsed his mouth out. "Do you always get up this late? Breakfast is at —" He broke off midsentence when Blaine abruptly pulled his shirt up, exposing a lightly toned chest, and one which was covered with just the right amount of hair. Kurt's eyes slid down to the waistline of Blaine's pants, noting the highly defined V and enticing happy trail he found there.

He turned back around quickly when Blaine had pulled the shirt over his head. As he gathered up his things and left the bathroom he heard Blaine chuckle.

"Leaving already?"

Forgetting himself, Kurt turned to glare at him, only to find that Blaine was now only in his boxers, his thumbs hooked at the waistband. Blaine's mouth turned up into a teasing smile and he pulled them down a few inches; just enough to expose his pubic hair. Kurt blushed furiously and spun on the spot.

"You're a pervert!" he called out, even as butterflies whirred around in his stomach and he broke out into a grin.

"Can't help myself!" Blaine called back. Kurt laughed quietly and deposited his towel and pajamas into a hamper sporting Dalton's emblem.

Ten minutes later, as he swung his messenger bag over his shoulder and prepared to leave the room, Blaine stepped out of the bathroom with his hair dripping wet and his towel around his waist. Kurt sighed loudly and looked away.

"Have you always been an exhibitionist?" Kurt drawled. He could practically _hear_ Blaine smile. He flinched when a pair of large, warm hands gripped his waist and pulled him back into a hard chest.

"Does it bother you?"

Blaine's breath against his ear made him shiver, and as much as he wished Blaine hadn't felt it, he knew that was next to impossible. He seemed like the sort of person who'd be looking for reactions.

Kurt wiggled out of Blaine's grip and turned to face him, cheeks flaming, mouth set in a frown. Blaine's smirk didn't falter.

"Considering I've known you for less than a day," said Kurt, fighting not to lower his gaze to Blaine's chest, "yes, it bothers me."

Blaine nodded and held up his hands in a gesture of placation that Kurt knew was at least half sarcastic.

"I'll wait at _least_ a month before trying again. Or is that too soon?"

At Kurt's glare he laughed and sauntered over to his dresser, where he pulled out his uniform and laid it on the bed.

Just as Kurt put his hand on the doorknob Blaine said, "If you wanna wait another minute I'll walk you there."

After a quick pause he assented. Blaine dropped his hand to his towel and Kurt cleared his throat loudly.

"What?"

Instead of answering Kurt raised a brow and nodded toward the bathroom. Blaine grinned mischievously but did not argue. He even closed the door behind himself.

Kurt sighed and went to sit down at his desk chair to wait, the memory of Blaine's teasing smirk and glorious body plaguing his mind. Blaine _was _making him nervous, as he was incredibly inexperienced for a seventeen-year-old, his only kiss having been from a bully back in high school, and that had _not_ been consensual.

But Kurt was also astounded. A boy as attractive as Blaine had never taken any interest in him before. For fuck's sake, he'd never _met_ another attractive and openly gay boy! This was unchartered territory.

But as Blaine came out of the bathroom — hair still damp and looking somehow delicious even in his uniform — and placed a gentle hand on the small of Kurt's back to lead him out of the door, Kurt thought he probably wouldn't mind doing a bit of exploring.

* * *

Class was strange. In fact, it wasn't so much class as it was studying. There were several classrooms — around fifteen students per room, give or take a few — to accommodate all the boys from both dorm buildings, and in each classroom there was one teacher. The teacher, however, was only there to help if anyone had a question.

There were two floors of classrooms, and on each floor there was an office filled to bursting with things called "chapters." Every subject — Calculus, US History, British Literature, etc. — had its own number of chapters that a student had to complete in order to pass the class. The chapters were photocopied from a textbook, and each came with a sheet of paper with homework corresponding to the reading. At the end of each chapter, there would be a test, and in order to move on one needed to score an eighty percent or higher.

An old lady sat in each office and the students had to speak to _them _in order to receive the chapters. One look told Kurt that the woman on his floor was less than friendly.

Rebecca put Kurt in a classroom on the second floor with Blaine. She told him he'd have to wait until his old school sent over his transcripts in order for them to determine on which chapter he would begin for each subject.

So Kurt spent the first block of class — four hours, to be exact — sitting next to Blaine and trying not to laugh at his antics.

"What class are you working on?" he asked, reaching over to flip the cover so he could see. _Brit. Lit. 1789 to Present_, it read, and underneath that _Chapter 25._

He looked up to find Blaine smirking at him. "If you were going to look anyway, why did you ask?"

Kurt slapped his arm and Blaine's smirk turned into a smile.

"You ever take Brit. Lit.?"

Kurt shook his head. "It's not a required class at my school."

"You're missing out," Blaine sang teasingly. "There's nothing like Romantic poetry."

Kurt scoffed. "I wouldn't've pegged you as the type to read Romantic poetry."

Blaine smirked and leaned much too close.

"You've known me for less than a day, remember?"

Goosebumps erupted on his neck where Blaine's breath washed over his skin and traveled outwards until they covered his whole body. Meanwhile, the boy sitting on Blaine's other side had gotten his attention and the two were leaning over a piece of paper together. Kurt glared at Blaine's back.

"Ew, are you kidding?" Blaine whispered. Kurt saw both boys look across the room at one of their exceptionally unattractive peers. The boy next to Blaine leaned in to whisper something else and suddenly the two of them were fairly howling with laughter. Blaine's eyes crinkled up at the sides with his laughter, and it was all Kurt could do to hold back his own smile.

"Blaine and David!" the teacher snapped, though Kurt was shocked to find a small grin tugging at her lips. The boys sobered up a bit and looked at her. David wiped a tear from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Ross," said Blaine. Next to him, David had his hand over his mouth tightly. Blaine choked on laughter and forced himself to settle down again. "Our apologies."

Mrs. Ross rolled her eyes. "Of course, Blaine." She looked up at a clock on the wall. "Anyway, it's nearly twelve o'clock. Someone will be coming to get you for lunch soon."

As though on cue, a blond girl whom Kurt had not yet met walked into the classroom holding a clipboard.

"The Jamester!" David called out, raising his hand in greeting. Kurt saw the girl — probably in her mid-twenties — smile at David and nod.

"Good morning, David. Line up outside, c'mon, guys."

Blaine tugged Kurt out of his chair and led him out of the classroom. All the boys lined up against the wall in the corridor, along with the boys from the other three classes on the same floor, so it was soon very noisy.

"I'm Jamie," the girl said, coming up to Kurt and sticking out her hand. Kurt smiled and shook it.

"Kurt," he said.

"Jamie is the coolest mentor at Dalton," Blaine interrupted. Jamie scoffed, and Kurt was pleased to note that this woman, at least, did not appear affected by Blaine's charm.

"You hated me on Sunday."

"Yes, well, that's because you wouldn't let me keep my lights on past 10:30."

"Lights out is at 10:30!"

Blaine huffed. "You've let me keep them on before."

"I've done no such thing." Jamie walked away with a smirk in place and Blaine turned, grinning, to Kurt.

"She's done it a thousand times," he said casually. "She doesn't like most of the boys here, but she loves me, Wes, and David. She even sat up with us in the common room one night until eleven."

Kurt snorted. "Congratulations. Charming a rehab-slash-boarding school mentor is quite an accomplishment these days."

Blaine stuck his tongue out childishly and Kurt merely rolled his eyes. Jamie took roll call for the whole floor, and when she'd finished, they all began heading toward the stairs.

"Did someone feed Philippe today?" David whispered as Jamie and the boys ahead went through a door leading out of the stairwell. He and Blaine peered between the gap at the end of the stairs where the railing curved around.

"Excuse me?"

"Me and Wes found a caterpillar on a trail one time during Wilderness and we —"

"Wilderness?" Kurt interrupted.

Blaine waved a hand impatiently. "Every Friday they choose like six guys randomly to go on a hike, or walk a trail, or something, but anyway, one time me and Wes —"

Kurt didn't _mean _to block him out, but the thought of this so-called _Wilderness_ was not appetizing in the least. Hiking? That was synonymous with dirt and mud and filth the last time he'd checked. And sweating. And walking through dirty, muddy forests _while_ sweating.

He barely contained a shiver.

"— and we sprinkled some dirt right down there with some leaves and stuff and we put him inside, and now we check on him every day and bring him meals."

"And one day he'll be a butterfly," David added.

Kurt took a moment to process this, and finally decided on asking, "Why did you give him a French name?"

"Well, A, because it sounds dapper as hell," Blaine said, and then turned to David.

"And B, because it's funny because Blaine's half Filipino."

"Pun intended," Blaine said in a very commercial-esque voice, pointing at Kurt with a cheesy wink.

"Oh my God. You are utterly ridiculous," Kurt said as they entered the cafeteria and Blaine pressed a hand against his lower back, leading him toward the sinks. Kurt's whole body erupted in goose bumps and he strove to fight the blush that he knew was inevitable.

"Blaine!" Blaine's hand snapped back to his side and he spun on his heel, giving Jamie a winning smile. "Hands to yourself!"

"I was merely showing our newest resident where the sinks are located. Would you have him eating with dirty hands?"

"That's a mark," she said, and jotted something down on her clipboard. "Kurt, I'll let you off easy since it's your first day."

"Ugh, how many is that now?" Blaine moaned. Jamie smirked mischievously.

"Eleven."

"Jamie!"

"Well, keep your hands off the other boys and you wouldn't be in this mess!"

Blaine pouted, resembling a puppy to an astonishing degree. Jamie rolled her eyes and walked off.

"A mark?" Kurt questioned once she was gone.

Blaine sighed exaggeratedly. "Marks are punishments. One mark is worth ten minutes of studying during our free time. I know, it's atrocious," he said in response to Kurt's face. "I've got nearly two hours now!"

"Serves you right," Kurt teased. "Maybe you should learn to control your raging libido."

Blaine smirked, and, after looking quickly around them, leaned in so Kurt felt his breath on his ear.

"That doesn't seem like a very fair expectation when I'm supposed to be sharing a room with _you_, Kurt."

It was the way he said his name that caused Kurt to suck in a harsh breath and bite the inside of his lip. Blaine chuckled against his neck before moving away toward the food, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Kurt, meanwhile, was left short of breath and with an uncomfortable problem in his pants.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or its characters. This is for fun, not profit.**

Where it Starts it Ends (and Begins Again)_  
__Chapter Three_

That same evening Blaine was forced to stay in the common room to work off his marks. He winked at Kurt and told him to enjoy his freedom.

Kurt hadn't officially met Wes yet, but he knew who he was, and smiled tentatively when he walked up to Kurt and stuck out a hand.

"Wes," he said with a smirk in place. Kurt's smile relaxed.

"Kurt."

"You wanna go outside? David and Blaine'll both be doing marks for the whole night."

Kurt laughed. "Yeah, sure."

Wes told Adam, the mentor-on-duty, where they were going, and led Kurt out of the common room and out of the building. There were a few other boys outside, along with Caleb — another mentor Kurt had met today and wasn't sure he liked — to supervise. Kurt recognized all of them, but only knew a few names. He noticed Charlie, the crazy one, about whom he'd heard quite a bit from Blaine. Apparently Charlie tried to convince everyone he had Multiple Personality Disorder. Sitting next to a tree by himself was Allan; he was the one Blaine and David had been pointing at in class. Allan was exceptionally unattractive, and, from what Kurt had seen, very strange.

"So, how's your first day been?" Wes asked casually as they made their way over to a picnic table near the center of the lawn.

Kurt shrugged. "It's been okay. I'm still getting used to it." He sighed and rested his chin in his hand. "I'd rather not be here. There are so many rules and stuff. I miss my friends and my family."

Wes nodded sympathetically. "Yeah. It's hard. It gets easier, but it's never _easy_, if you know what I mean." Kurt nodded despondently. "But some of the guys here are great. You're rooming with Blaine, that has to be fun. Blaine's one of my best friends. I would even call him that outside of Dalton. He and David are hilarious."

"Yeah, they told me about the caterpillar you and Blaine found and have living in the stairwell."

Wes laughed loudly. "Nice! You gotta do some weird things to amuse yourself when you're in a place like this. You should see some of the notes me and Blaine have passed over the months. Sometimes I don't think we're normal."

"I can see that," Kurt said with a snort. Wes smiled. "I'll admit, I'm looking forward to seeing Rebecca's reaction when someone finds a butterfly in there."

Again, Wes broke out into peals of laughter. When he'd settled down he nodded. "You'll do, Kurt," he said, patting Kurt's hand. "We'll get along just fine."

It was strange, because he was hours away from home in a rehab-boarding school with delinquent boys, but that warmed his heart. Perhaps not _everyone_ here would be so horrible.

"So," he began, "Blaine told me about Charlie." He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "He pretends to have Multiple Personality Disorder?"

"Oh my God!" Wes laughed. "Yes! Jesus, did he tell you what happened when he provoked him?"

Kurt shook his head, eyebrows dipped in confusion.

"Jesus. Fucking. Christ. It was a few weeks ago. See, when Charlie shared this information with me and David, we told Blaine, obviously, because it's hilarious. So Blaine, being Blaine, asked him about it, and Charlie told him that you could summon one of his personalities by saying his name three times."

"Are you serious?" Kurt deadpanned. Wes held his hands up.

"Swear to God. This personality's name is 'Edgar,' and he warned us not to do it because Edgar's insane, apparently."

"Uh huh."

Wes laughed. "So Blaine said the name three times and Charlie closes his eyes and starts shaking, and when he opened them he goes, 'Who summoned me?' in this stupid deep voice."

"Oh my _God_."

"Yeah, but wait." Wes shook his head. "Blaine told him that _he_ had, and Charlie _jumped_ him."

"What!"

"Kurt, you should have seen it," Wes said earnestly. "He _attacked_ Blaine. Blaine was trying to throw him off when Kyle — he's a mentor you haven't met yet — finally pulled Charlie off."

"Wow," Kurt said eventually, chuckling at the image of Charlie jumping on Blaine, who was half his size.

"Shit goes down here," Wes said offhandedly, and began picking apart a leaf sitting on the table. Kurt watched him for a few moments, absorbing all that he'd heard and all that had happened today. If he was going to be honest, it wasn't all that horrible here at Dalton. Aside from some of the more strict limits and the fact that he couldn't talk to his family or wear his own clothes, it was a rather friendly environment. He wasn't being bullied, and that was a definite plus.

And anyway, he was sharing a room with a gorgeous gay boy. Who, admittedly, wasn't perfect. He smoked cigarettes behind the school's back, for fuck's sake. But he was sweet, and he was charming, and Kurt thought he could absolutely get used to living with him for a while.

"What did you do to get sent here?" he asked after a minute. Wes looked up and dropped his leaf.

"Oh, kind of a long story," he said, scratching his head.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me, I was just wo —"

"Oh, no, I don't mind telling you," he laughed. "I'll just give you the short version: I was really into drugs. Not, like, hardcore drugs, just marijuana and acid, stuff like that. It was taking over my life, though; I wasn't going to school, I was staying out all night and my parents had no idea where I was. I even started developing Paranoid Schizophrenia because of all the LSD. The night my parents decided I needed to be sent somewhere was when they found me on the roof and I told them I could fly. I mean, I thought I could. I jumped off, but my dad caught me."

Kurt felt that if it were possible, his mouth would have been hanging on the ground. Did that even happen in real life? It sounded like a movie.

"I was on a plane the next morning."

Kurt nodded dumbly. "Wow," he managed. "Um, where are you from?"

"San Fran," he said with a wink. "What about you?"

"Oh, I'm from here," he said, startled. He hadn't known people from different states came to Dalton. "I mean, a few hours away, a town called Lima, but . . . yeah, I'm from Ohio."

"Oh, snap," Wes said, appearing interested. "That's kinda nice, though, maybe you'll get a home visit sooner."

Kurt shrugged. "Maybe. Where are Blaine and David from?"

"David's from Indiana and Blaine's from Chicago. You couldn't tell with Blaine? He has an accent sometimes. Tell him to say 'Chicago,' you'll see what I mean."

Kurt merely smiled and nodded, but inside he was obsessing over the fact that it was, for whatever reason, adorable to think of Blaine having an accent, however small.

"Anyway, what about you?" Wes said, snapping Kurt back to reality. "What'd you do to get shipped here?"

Kurt's cheeks colored. "Oh, I . . . um . . ."

"You don't have to tell me," Wes said knowingly, holding up a hand. "It's alright." Kurt smiled thankfully.

They talked about more trivial things for another half hour before Caleb called out to round everyone up. He brought them all back up to the common room and Adam took roll call, and then they were all sent to their rooms to start getting ready for bed.

"Do you do that morning _and_ night?" Blaine asked, coming up behind Kurt in the bathroom, who was moisturizing his face.

"Yes."

"_Why?_"

Kurt turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. "Because I like to have nice skin?"

Blaine's arm shot up unexpectedly and he ran his hand down Kurt's cheek, smiling when he dropped it back at his side.

"Seems to me like you already do."

Kurt coughed and fumbled with the bottle of lotion in his hand.

"Yes, well, that's because I moisturize."

Blaine smirked at him and moseyed back into their room. Kurt turned to look at himself in the mirror and took a deep, calming breath. For God's sake, he'd known Blaine for a little more than a day and already he was developing a massive crush. But how could he not? What with the little touches and whispers and suggestive glances. The most frightening thing for Kurt — who had no sexual experience of which he could speak, and, before now, had had no desire to go searching for information or porn — was that these little touches were making him feel jittery. Almost _unsatisfied_, if he was to be so bold.

He didn't _like_ to admit that he wanted to see what was underneath Blaine's towel every morning, but he _did_. Very much so, in fact. And even stranger than that — he wanted to feel Blaine's hands on his skin. His cheek had felt wonderful, but . . . well, he didn't think he'd mind having those large, warm hands wandering over his stomach, slipping around, and resting on his lower back. Just like earlier, but without the clothing between them.

He shuddered and quickly finished up his routine, avoiding looking at Blaine as he pulled his covers back and slipped into bed.

Blaine had been reading a book, but he looked up at the disturbance, and soon he had hopped onto Kurt's bed and rested his back against the wall.

"How was your date with Wes?" he asked with a teasing smile. Kurt swatted his arm and Blaine laughed. "Seriously, did you two get along?"

"Very well," Kurt nodded. "He's funny. Told me you were one of his best friends."

Blaine flushed, a giant grin spreading to both sides of his face. "Awww, he's a doll. So you talked about me, huh?"

"No, actually," said Kurt, delighting in the way Blaine's ego visibly deflated. "He told me about what he did to get sent here."

Blaine whistled. "Oh, Wes," he said with a shake of his head. "He was a bird in his past life."

Kurt snorted. "If he was, he was a Kiwi."

"Oh, he'd be adorable!" Blaine cooed. "A little Kiwi Wes. I'd bring him everywhere."

"_Anyway_," Kurt continued, "he also told me you're from Chicago?"

Blaine dipped his head in confirmation. "He speaks the truth. Good ol' Chi Town." He rolled his eyes.

"Don't like it there?"

Blaine sighed dramatically. "It's not that I don't _like_ it, per se. Just sick of it. I'm not even from the city itself. I'm from a town about half an hour north. Ever seen Mean Girls?"

Kurt gasped in outrage. "Of course I have!"

Blaine chuckled. "Yeah, well, you know when Janis makes the map of the cafeteria for Cady?" Kurt nodded. "At the top, you see it says North Shore High School. Her parents got their jobs in the beginning at Northwestern, so that makes _North Shore High School_ Evanston Township in reality."

"Okay . . ."

"That's my high school."

"Shut up!"

Blaine laughed, nodding enthusiastically. "I swear to God! My family lives in Evanston, right outside of Chicago. It's part of the North Shore."

"That is spectacular," Kurt said, leaning back against his headboard. "Is it really like that? I mean, crazy that way?"

"In some aspects," Blaine said with a shrug. "It's not quite as chaotic, but the biggest difference is that a _lot_ more people are like Regina and her gang than in the movie. The North Shore is notoriously wealthy.

"But anyway, let's talk about you," he said bluntly. Kurt blinked. "Come on, you talked to Wes!"

"I didn't tell him about me! I told you yesterday, I've only known you for a day, Blaine."

Blaine scooted the smallest bit closer. Kurt fidgeted and hoped Blaine hadn't noticed. He had, of course. He smirked.

"You won't be able to say that come tomorrow."

"Well, I'll only have known you for two days by tomorrow."

Blaine laughed. "Oh, come on, babe. You don't have to tell me your life story; just gimme a little background! I'm interested. How was high school for you before you came here?"

Kurt looked down at his hands. He began fidgeting with the comforter.

"It was . . . not good."

Blaine listened to him talk about his freshmen year, before he'd joined glee. About the dumpster tosses and slushies and being slammed into lockers. And he told him about how that hadn't stopped once he'd joined. The only difference was that he wasn't enduring it alone.

He even brought up Karofsky. And the kiss.

When tears had inevitably welled up in Kurt's eyes, Blaine had backed up against the headboard as well and slipped an arm around Kurt's waist, pulling him in close, and Kurt, feeling completely overwhelmed, had buried his face in Blaine's chest and breathed in his scent and allowed it to calm him. A few tears dampened Blaine's sweater, but he seemed not to mind.

They stayed like that for at least half an hour. Blaine's thumb had managed to make its way under the hem of Kurt's shirt and he was absently rubbing circles into his skin.

Eventually he sighed and pulled his arm away.

"It's nearly 10:15," he said. "Someone will be coming to turn our lights out any minute."

Kurt nodded, swallowed, and sat up. Blaine smiled at him and ran his hand over Kurt's cheek once again.

"You're brave," he whispered. "For dealing with that."

The statement made Kurt's heart feel tight; no, he hadn't been brave. And he hadn't dealt with it. Not the right way, at least.

"I'm not," he said. Blaine took his hand.

"Regardless of whatever you did to be sent here, you are."

"I _will_ tell you one day," he blurted. His eyes went wide for a moment, but he didn't retract the promise.

Because he knew that, one of these days, he would. Blaine was effectively digging his way into Kurt's heart, and it had barely been two days.


End file.
